


A Day in the Life

by mother_finch



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, mother-finch fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 04:52:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3637407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mother_finch/pseuds/mother_finch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PROMPT: shoot prompt: Shaw wakes up and is somehow Sarah Shahi. She doesn't know what's going on. Who's Amy Acker? Who's Jim Caviezel? Where's Root? What's happening? She wakes up beside Root and realizes it was all a dream. Root asks if she's okay and all Shaw does is roll over onto Root and bury her face in Root's neck and groans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Day in the Life

Opening her eyes, Shaw wakes up to a cream colored ceiling. Looking left, she sees a closet and full length mirror, met directly with a large bureau.  _What the…_ Looking to the right, there is nothing but empty space on a large, queen sized bed and a wide window with lavender drapes. Shaw instantly darts up, pulse quickening, and she stands. She looks to the side table- nothing. With feverish hands she rips apart the table’s two drawers.  _Where’s my gun where’s my gun._ Walking up to the mirror, she inspects herself.  _I look the same. I feel the same. But nothing is the same._  She takes another look around, then flings open the closet door. Her eyes bulge at the multitudes of colors within. Raking through them, the only thing remotely black she finds is an extremely short, straight dress. _Nope._  She tosses it to the ground, and settles on a gray pantsuit. Feeling extremely odd, she slips on a pair of boots and slinks to the door. Presses her ear to it- listens.

* * *

 

_People, I hear…_ Her breath catches. Root. Her voice is light and airy, talking with someone whose voice she can’t quite place. Grabbing the door’s handle, she yanks it open.

Root looks up, and a smile comes to her face. “Hey, Sarah, you’re just in time. We were all gonna grab breakfast. You coming?”

Shaw’s jaw unhinges, and her eyes pop. “What?”

"You know," Root says with a slightly puzzled look. "Bagels? Coffee?"

"No, why’d you call me Sarah." Root’s confusion deepens.

"Because it’s your  _name_?” She offers. “You feeling alright?”

"I’m fine," Shaw replies, completely the opposite. Her voice becomes hostile when she sees the man Root talks to. Tall, wearing all black and a headset, Shaw feels an unease about him. "And who the  _hell_  are you,” she demands.

"Cameron…" He tells her slowly. "The pyrotechnics guy…" He turns back to Root, taken aback. "Amy, what happened to her?" Root shrugs her shoulders.

 _Amy? Who’s Amy?_ Head spinning out of control, Shaw feels herself grow dizzy and nauseous as she staggers into the hallway surrounding her.

” _Sarah_?” Root- no Amy- no Root’s voice calls with worry. “Where are you going?”

"Fresh air," Shaw replies shakily, not looking back. She walks down a long, well lit hallway, then down the maintenance stairs. Everything swirls around her as she tries in vain to put two and two together. With a sigh, she gives up, and pushes the staircase door open. The lobby bustles around her, and she realizes she is in a hotel.

________\ If Your Number’s Up /________

At the far end, beside the exit doors, is another familiar face. Shaw starts forward, then stops midway, taking in his attire. Blue, denim jeans, white sneakers, and a loose t-shirt. Very unkempt- very  _un-Reese._ Shaw continues forward at a slower pace now. Once within a few feet of him, he turns to her.

"Morning, Sarah," he greets with a large smile. Shaw can’t help but give him a quizzical glare.

"Uh, hi-"

"Jim!" Shaw whips her head around, hearing Harold’s voice. Spotting him, she gawks at his smooth gate.  _What happened to him?_ He wears khaki pants and brown loafers. The only thing truly familiar about him is his glasses- even his face is too light and care free to be him.

"Aye-he- _hey_ , Michael! What’s up?” Harold-  _well, Michael_ \- comes up beside John-  _wait Jim?_ \- and gives his shoulder a shake.

"I’m good. Slept great. You excited for tomorrow’s set?"

 _Tomorrow’s set?_  “Yeah,” Michael replies with a large smile. “These are my favorite kinds of scenes.” Suddenly, everything seems far too loud, but incomprehensible none the less. Every voice is a siren wailing in her ears as she scans the lobby with bewildered eyes.  _What happened to everyone? Where is Root? What the hell is going on?_

An elevator dings, and Shaw watches Root walk out, phone to her ear.  _But is it Root?_  She thinks skeptically.  _I want it to be- wish it were_. She feels a sinking in her stomach, knowing it’s not. When she looks at Shaw, there is a smile, but nothing more. All traces of Root seem to disappear, nothing but that smile and those eyes remain. She feels her throat constrict with the pain of it all.

"Okay, see you there," Root’s doppelganger agrees into the phone before hanging up. Looking at the three people before her, she says, "Kevin said he’d meet us there."

"Kevin who?" Shaw asks. Each look at her in turn.

"Kevin Chapman," Jim tells her curiously. "Our co-worker."

"Are you sure you’re alright?" Root-  _Amy_ \- asks again, the concern back in her eyes. “You aren’t acting like yourself.”

 _You aren’t acting like yourself_ , Shaw grumbles inside.

"I, uh, I must have eaten a bad…  _something_.” She replies slowly, and Amy nods.

"Yeah, that’s probably it," she agrees with a smile. "I’ll call your husband, maybe he can take you-"

"I have a  _husband?!”_  Shaw exclaims. “I’m  _married_?! To- to-“

"To _Steve Howey,_ " Amy finishes; now everyone circles Shaw with deep concern. Shaw turns in place, looking at each face, feeling her nerves scream with the utter desire to run growing stronger.

"Steve  _who_?” She spits out in mortification, feeling her stomach lurch woozily. Shaw wants more than anything for Root to be here- the real Root. Needs her to be here.  _She’d probably have a better idea of what’s going on,_ she thinks miserably.  _Or at least have a plan that doesn’t involve breaking everyone’s limbs to escape_.

"Maybe- maybe you should hang back," Amy tells Shaw gently. "I’ll bring you a coffee."

” _Sameen_.” Shaw stops dead in her tracks.  _What was?_

” _Sameen_.” She looks to Amy with a slightly crazed glow in her eye.

"Say that again." She demands. Amy gives her a troubled look.

"Say what again?"

” _Sameen, you in there?_ " Shaw watches with saucers for eyes. Her lips didn’t move, but her voice…  _Root. It’s Root._ Pushing past Michael, she looks with prying eyes to the others in the lobby.

” _Sam_.”

"Root!" Shaw calls out, not seeing her. "Root, where are you?!" She turns back to the three strangers, then stalks up to them. Grabbing Michael by the shoulders, she shakes him hard.

"Where is she."

"Where is  _who?_!” He shouts, glasses sliding crookedly down his nose.

"Root!"

” _Sam, come on_ ,” Root’s voice is laced with impatience.  _I’m coming, I’m coming_ , she promises, looking around. Dropping her hands from Michael, she checks the stairwell.

"I think she’s lost it," Michael whispers to Jim, who nods with disbelieving eyes.

Shaw sees no one at the stairs, and rushes back to the center of the lobby.

” _Sameen, I’m not going to say it again,_ " Root’s voice warns. With a last, fleeting thought, Shaw looks to the exit doors. Glass rimmed in bronze. Walking forward quickly, she pushes through them, bracing for the New York cold.

_________\ We’ll Find You /_________

"Sameen, get…  _up_!” Shaw’s eyes open at the words, but she lays still, frozen in place. Looking to the left, she sees the familiar layout of her apartment. Eyes rolling back up and over to the right, she is met with two large, brown eyes sparkling towards her. They crinkle at the edges, giving away a smile just out of Shaw’s sight. “There we go,” Root says happily. She brings her hand to Shaw’s face, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes.  _A dream?_  Shaw wonders, thinking back to the world she was just trapped in.  _Hopefully._

Root leaves her hand to rest on Shaw’s neck, and her head shifts slightly closer on the pillow. “You okay?” She asks, large eyes flickering with curiosity. Shaw watches them a minute, feeling a rush of relief flooding her system. And with it comes utter exhaustion.

Bringing her hand up to Root’s, she lays it over hers. Then, she shifts over, and Root is pushed softly off balance, rolling onto her back. Shaw brings her head to Root’s shoulder, burying her face in Root’s neck, and lets out a long, antagonized groan.


End file.
